


The Sun of Royalty

by FreckledSkittles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Crossdressing, Fluff, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Marco Bott, M/M, Prince Marco Bott, Romance, aka marco in a dress, marco wears dresses a lot and jean loves it, nerds, oh thank god it's a tag, well sorta but w/e
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 05:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13139799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: Prince Marco was expected to do two things: 1) take the throne after his mother, and 2) find a partner. What he wasn't expected to do was: A) wear dresses, and B) fall in love with his personal guard Jean.Well. Okay. That last one sounds a little farfetched to Jean. But it can't happen, right? Or could he fall for the prince?Alternate title is "Marco Likes Dresses and Jean, and Jean Likes Marco and Marco in Dresses."





	The Sun of Royalty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sofiefandoms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofiefandoms/gifts).



> The title is a pun.  
> Also let's just assume that everyone in this universe/world is Okay With Gay and it's like totally a thing okay? Cool.
> 
> Happy Holidays sofiefandoms!!! Your prince!Marco and guard!Jean AU literally has fueled my heart, because I have procrastinated hardcore on actually writing that until now, and I think it turned out pretty okay!
> 
> Also head's up that Marco is genderfluid in this and uses he/him/his as his pronouns and wears dresses because he can B)))) what a rebel am I right?
> 
> Anyway enjoy friend!!! Here's some fluffy Jeanmarco sweetness for you! :)

“Marco, sweetheart, may we have a talk after dinner?”

Jean eyed the Queen Mother critically, Prince Marco’s grandmother, and hoped that it was not about the quite obvious state of dress that the young boy had been partaking in. There was enough trouble with foreign relations and domestic issues. They didn’t need to be fighting each other.

Marco glanced up at his grandmother with a frown, but he stayed silent, pushing potatoes around his plate absentmindedly. The clothes he wore were not traditional for a prince, but they fit a princess certainly. He liked to wear dresses when it fit the mood, twirling in loose skirts and adjusting puffy sleeves. His mother didn’t mind, because he hadn’t yet walked out of the castle grounds wearing dresses, so the public had never seen their prince and heir to the throne in feminine clothes. His grandmother, however, had more words to share.

The Queen Mother sighed and patted the sides of her mouth with her napkin. “Marco, dear, you simply must understand,” she began, “that we cannot have a prince who does not follow the manners established for him. Pushing the status quo is not for the monarchy.”

“Mother, please,” Queen Maria sighed. “He’s doing no harm to anyone.”

“But how is he supposed to choose a suitor if he refuses to trousers?”

“He’s only fifteen! And he wears trousers when he wants to. Why can’t you just leave him alone?”

The Queen Mother said nothing further, and Marco stayed silent. He had eaten a bit more as the conversation had gained more hostility, but his eyes strayed between the two women. Jean was waiting for an argument to rise from the prince’s mouth, but none came.

“May I be excused, Mother?” He asked politely. “I’m not feeling very well.”

Queen Maria frowned. “Is everything alright? Do you feel ill?”

“My stomach is a bit queasy.” Jean recognized the words used as a code for Her Royal Highness, when her mother was being unusually harsh on her grandson. With Maria’s permission, Marco stood from his chair and kissed his mother on the head. He waved Jean to lead him to his quarters, where he would stand guard outside of his room until evening.

“You should say something to your grandmother,” he said once they were out of the dining hall. Jean had been part of the Royal Guard since he was ten, when he volunteered his service to help his parents. They were living comfortably, now that he was protecting His Royal Highness Prince Marco, son of Her Royal Highness Queen Maria Rochelle and her consort William. If Jean was honest, however, he would say that he was less enthused about the person he had to protect: Marco was constantly happy and smiling, and he didn’t mind rebelling against the expectations put upon male figures.

The prince shrugged and smiled at him. Jean wanted nothing more than to wipe it off. How could he find happiness in such a critical time? “I would, but I don’t think she would listen,” he said, toying with the edges of his sleeves. He hadn’t worn a dress that day because he had appeared in town for a special event, but Jean was sure that he would be wearing one tomorrow. “My grandmother isn’t very willing to change her mind when she gets set on something.”

“It’s still worth a try. Otherwise, you’re just taking her words and giving her permission to do it again.”

“Hm. If you say it like that, then I may consider saying something next time.” Marco glanced over at him and stopped at the edge of the stairs. Jean, by obligation to the crown and as a duty of his job, halted right beside him. “What do you think, Jean? How do you feel about me wearing dresses?”

Honestly, Jean had little concern for what Marco did. As long as he was safe, outside of harm, and smiling, there was nothing for him to be worried about. That was already known, but the prince was always trying to convince him to say more. He wanted to be friends with his guard, and the only problem was how much Jean  _ didn’t _ want to be friends. This was his job, and just because they were the same age didn’t mean they were required to be friends.

“I’m only focused on keeping you safe and making sure you’re unharmed,” Jean stated. “I have no opinion on what you wear.”

As far away as it was from the response that Marco wanted, the guard was still given a gratuitous smile. “Do you think I could steal some sweets from the kitchen?”

“I’ll put in a request to Annie and see what she can do.”

At the end of his shift, Jean delivered a tiny package of cookies. At breakfast the next morning, Marco stood up to his grandmother while wearing a pretty purple dress. There was not much to the conversation, mostly due to the tutoring Marco would have to endure, but Jean assumed it had to do with his silent presence behind the prince. Family members were not exempt from a guard, and if he had to take him away from his grandmother for his own protection, he would do everything he could to make it happen.

Protecting Marco was his life, past and future. He was not going anywhere.

 

* * *

“So remind me again why you haven’t chosen a partner.”

With Marco’s twenty-first birthday within a week, the pressure to prepare for the crown increased. Tutors increased his hours, leisure time was cut, and and he was pushed to put childish antics behind him. As long as he was still allowed to wear whatever he chose, he was okay and willing to do whatever they wished. The influence even came from his cousin Ymir, who was visiting for his birthday and was already engaged by her twentieth birthday. In the short amount of time he had for a break, he was playing cards with her and her wife, Queen Historia of Trost. It made Jean’s job easier, and he was able to lean back and relax, not out of laziness but because Ymir was just as good a guard as he.

Marco rolled his eyes and sighed, toying with the cards he was holding. “I’ve told my mother the same thing,” he said. “I’m not looking for someone to just marry.” He had opted to wear a blue dress today, simple and slim against his tall figure, with a yellow ribbon around his waist and in his hair. “I want a companion. Plus, there are no princes available.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re entirely out of luck,” Historia pointed out. The cards she put down were a winning hand, and she smiled in triumph. “You don’t have to look for the next-in-line. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have found Ymir.”

“Everyone wants me to do that, though.” Marco groaned and dropped against the bed, arms splayed. There was a knock at the door, and Jean answered it; their lunch had arrived.

“What about your guardian angel?” Ymir taunted. Jean didn’t acknowledge the remark as he took post by the open door, alert in case the butler decided to get handsy. One never knew when it came to Marco, a thought that only proved true when he glared at his cousin with a blush on his face.

“Ymir, cut it out. That was just a kid thing.”

“It lasted much longer than that,” Historia piped in, winking at the prince. “I see how you look at him.”

Marco groaned and hid his face. He peeked out at Jean for a brief moment; the guard acted like he hadn’t seen or heard anything odd. He cleared his throat when the butler was taking a little too slow to leave the room and shut the door behind the eavesdropper.

“What are your thoughts on it, Jeanny?” Ymir smirked, head tilting slightly. Marco tried to stop her, but she was relentless and held him down. “Do you have someone you enjoy being with?”

“I’m focused on protecting Marco,” he stated firmly. He didn’t let the conversation stray any farther than that. “I don’t have time for relationships outside of work.”

“Sounds like you’re really invested in your job.”

“Ymir, that’s enough!” Marco snapped. He wormed his way out from his cousin’s grasp with Historia’s help, and the shorter woman scolded her wife. The swish of Marco’s hips made the skirt of his dress sway. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, and if you continue, I’m going to ask you to leave.”

“You need to behave,” the blonde woman added. Ymir whined quietly and wrapped her arms around her waist, but Historia barely responded to it.

Jean stayed quiet for the rest of the time Marco’s cousins were there, letting the three resume casual conversation over lunch. Eventually, he had to take the prince to his lessons, and the two women left. Marco adjusted the ribbon in his hair while Jean put the dining cart outside of the room.

“I’m very sorry for my cousin.”

The words were barely finished and Jean waved away the concern. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t even hear half of what she said.” A slight lie, but no one else had to know.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I kept quiet about it, right?”

“Of course not. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Marco hopped to his feet and grinned. “You’re incredible, Jean, have I told you lately?”

Jean’s face turned hot, but he shook his head at the statement instead of addressing it more politely. “I’m just—”

“Focused on my safety.” A friendly wink and a twirl out the door. Jean wondered why his heart clenched at the movement and followed after him.

 

* * *

Marco’s twenty-first birthday was filled with a crowd of people rushing into the courtyard to see the prince. There were a few strangers from town who got too close when meeting him, but one look from Jean over Marco’s shoulder and they retreated. By the time dinner came around, he was worn down and less conscious about his manners. His grandmother scolded him for sinking into his hand instead of sitting up straight, and Ymir only teased him twice about something that Jean hadn’t heard. He nearly had to pull the prince and walk him to the dining hall.

“I wish I could have worn something else,” he murmured to Jean. “These pants feel so weird on me.”

Jean had kept their relationship to a strictly work-related one, but he knew enough to be comfortable with the prince. For instance, his decision to wear female garments was because of how suffocating and standoffish pants and suit made him feel. It was bad enough that for his birthday, he had been limited to a light coat on his lips and some outlining on his eyes. It was delicate and specific, and he had been wiggling uncomfortably in private whenever he found the chance.

“If you want,” Jean began, hoping that his comment would come off as a professional offer and not a friendly recommendation, “we can sneak off after dinner and change you into one.” Okay, it wasn’t very professional, but he hated seeing the prince so miserable. He deserved to be smiling and loving who he was and feeling good about himself.

“I don’t know if that’ll work out well,” Marco said cautiously.

“It’s your birthday. You can do whatever you want. And you won’t even have to say anything. I’ll do the honors.”

The prince smiled at the last part, and the walk to the dining hall was much more comfortable. And right on time, as he had said, Jean informed Queen Maria that Marco would be retiring early to bed. The statement was accepted without question, and Jean had to hide how excited Marco was to leave with a shrug and an apology for leaving so late. In reality, he felt little sorrow for the smile on the prince’s face. There was no way for him to feel guilty when Marco was so joyful and bright.

Strange. What an intrusive thought.

“You’ll have to help me pick out a dress,” Marco declared, bursting into his room and dashing to the wardrobe that was specifically filled with his dresses. He was halfway out of his clothes already.

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Jean admitted. “I have a limited sense of fashion, since I wear the same thing every day.”

“Even on your days off?” The prince smirked at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Do you sleep and bathe in it too?”

He could do without the sass. The guard took a quick look in the wardrobe, ignoring the fact that Marco was already dressed to undergarments, and he pointed at a beautiful yellow ball gown. “This one should do.”

Marco grinned brightly, and he nearly tore it out of the wardrobe to put it on. He stepped into it with ease, as if he belonged in it, and Jean was enchanted with the quick movements. The dress was a perfect fit on his body, the bright color complimenting the spotted tan skin. Jean tried to force himself to look away from the sharp neckline and bare shoulders that appeared from the lack of a collar, and the formation of his waist, and the way the skirt of the dress twirled around his feet. Marco looked like he was walking on air.

Jean stepped on his foot to break out of the trance. How could he think such things of the prince he was dedicated to serving for what was assumed to be the rest of his life? No matter how attractive he had become over the years, and no matter how much Jean was starting to realize how much Marco had hinted at it or even how correct Ymir had been just last week, he couldn’t pursue it.

Even if he wanted to.

“How do I look?” Marco asked, twirling once the dress was zippered and on completely. As he spun once to show it off, the dress of the skirt spread like bird wings. He was a ball of light who deserved the world and beyond. If he could, Jean would center everything around him, because nothing else was worthy of bringing that much brightness to a room. He wished that marriage requirements as an heir to the throne gave him permission to look beyond a crown and look at the heart.

The guard realized with a start that he had yet to say anything, so he gathered his thoughts and nodded. “Mhm, yes, you—do, yes, you do.”

Marco’s smile was as shining as the fabric of his dress. The pink of his lips was even more of a request to quietly admire the view. “You think so?”

Jean gulped and nodded once more. He was running out of things to do or say, to the point where he was sure that his last option would be between combustion or asking for a goodnight kiss.

 

* * *

 

“Armin says you’re going to meet a possible suitor?”

A few months later and Jean was still left with distracting thoughts about Marco. Their relationship hadn’t changed much, but Jean stole more glances at the prince. He hid it with a clearing of his throat and a roll of his shoulder. No one noticed anything, even if he became more aware of the sneaky glances shot to him by the prince.

Marco rolled his eyes as they walked down the grand staircase to the foyer. “I wish I wasn’t,” he stated firmly. “I made a deal with my mother—she would help fix the emerald gown if I saw at least one suitor.”

“I thought she already helps you with that.”

“She does, but she’s been trying to coax me into at least meeting someone. The quicker I can find a partner, the quicker we can start looking at heirs for me.”

Jean shook his head with a snort and opened the door for the prince, who walked forward with a thankful smile and a small curtsy. “It all sounds like too much to me.”

“Well, you can always start an excuse to get me out.”

“I think Her Royal Highness is starting to get suspicious, so we’ll have to see. Or make it convincing enough.”

“I can always jump into the rose gard—”

“Hey, watch out!”

The duo had been walking in the garden when a horse came galloping at full speed towards them. Jean wrapped his arms around Marco and pulled up, and the guard fell back on his rump with the sudden weight in his clutch. The horse slowed only slightly as it passed, but it thankfully didn’t recognize them; the animal was unhappy about something and seemed more focused on getting away.

Jean stayed still until he was certain that the horse was far from them, and he released a breath. He looked over Marco’s shoulder at the prince, who was staring ahead in shock. “Are you alright?”

Marco turned around and blinked in bewilderment before he nodded. He licked his lips and turned around as best he could. “Y-yeah, I’m good.”

“Good.” Jean had never had to physically protect Marco as he had just then, but the feeling of pressing the prince close to his body felt familiar. There was something natural about the way he moved that hadn’t come from training. It was something beyond, and if it had to do with the nagging voice in the back of his head to look at how rapidly his heart was beating, he knew what it was.

When neither of them moved, Marco spoke up in a gentle voice despite his tone. The air between them, or what little there was, became tense. “What are you protecting me from now?”

“Nothing. I’m not…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m not protecting you from anything. I—just, I—”

“Um.” All it took was a hand on his bicep to remember what they were doing, and Jean unlocked his arms. He wasn’t sure what he saw in his friend’s eyes, but he was positive it was related to the feeling brewing inside him.

“You need to see your suitor,” Jean decided. Marco got to his feet first and helped him up. “Or, uh, maybe suitor.”

“Yeah,” the prince hummed. “Maybe suitor.”

 

* * *

Maybe Suitor was terrible. He tripped over his words and his feet, and he spilled champagne on Marco’s suit. He was nice enough that the visit was pleasant, but there was no romantic spark. And it might not have helped that Jean was required to stand guard and watch the date happen, and the duo was able to see him: Marco with amusement, and Maybe Suitor with worry. He was invited back, but not for a date. They both enjoyed horses—which Maybe Suitor apologized profusely for accidentally letting his horse run on the grounds—and a horse ride was scheduled.

Marco walked close to Jean when they say Maybe Suitor off, enough that their hands brushed together when their strides were mirrored. By the time they were back in the castle, they were covered in an awkward atmosphere.

“So,” Jean began slowly, “you have a little bit of free time before you meet with Her Royal Highness, correct?”

“Yeah, I do,” Marco answered, sounding distant and far away. “I shouldn’t be long there either. But…” He turned to the guard with a nervous smile and hope in his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if you, um…stayed after your shift. You’ll be relieved with Reiner soon, won’t you?”

“After your meeting with your mom.”

“So stay.”

“Marco—”

“Not as my guard. As something else.” His hand rose up to gently hold Jean’s arm as he gently placed a kiss on his cheek. The way he moved was almost robotic, as if he was afraid of the reaction he was going to receive. “As…whatever you want  _ that _ to be.”

Jean started to answer, but one of the dukes had rounded the corner, and they had to cut their conversation off short and move towards Queen Maria’s quarters. They stayed silent for the rest of the walk. Jean waited dutifully outside the doors leading to Her Royal Majesty’s chambers, as he had not been given permission inside. When Marco emerged a short while later, he was relieved to see the familiar face still standing there, but he still stayed quiet. Queen Maria was behind him, most likely the source of the lack of words. Jean instantly stood to attention and saluted her.

“Your Highness,” he greeted her, and then he bowed low.

“Good afternoon, Jean,” she said. He stood back up to see a smile—ironically, one identical to her son’s—aimed at him. “I heard there was an encounter with our guest’s horse that required some quick action?”

“Yes, ma’am. The animal got loose and ran through the garden. I had to pull Marco out of the way, and he was unharmed.”

“I appreciate your quick thinking. You are part of what makes this kingdom run so well, don’t ever forget that.” She glanced over at Marco, who looked away hastily, and she chuckled. “Maybe you do much more than you think.”

Jean wasn’t sure what it meant, even if he shamed himself for being so oblivious to what was clearly a reference to the prince’s actions, but he nodded and saluted the queen before he and Marco headed back to their quarters.

“What did you talk about in there?” He wondered once they reached Marco’s room and the door was shut. Two guards were already stationed in the hallway, prepared and able to continue Jean’s work once his shift was over.

“Nothing much,” Marco shrugged. “She really just wanted to know about the suitor.” His smile said otherwise. He dug through his wardrobe, clearly happy to be in something else. It was another day for a dress; he never decided on  _ when _ he would wear a skirt over trousers. It simply came on its own accord. Jean had accepted it long ago.

“What was her reaction to your evaluation on Maybe Suitor? I’d go with the sapphire one.”

“Oh, thank you—and not as bad as I had believed. She accepted it for what it was and said we’d try again.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, Jean. Queen Maria Rochelle does not want just anyone marrying her son. If I don’t feel a spark with them, then I don’t have to be with them.”

Jean was suspicious of the information. It was Marco’s wish, but he presented it like his mother had decided it on her own. And although his knowledge on monarchy rules may have been limited to the requirements of a prince and his duties as a guard, he was sure that marriage rules were stricter than that. “Sounds like she gave you more choice than you initially had.”

“Probably because she did exactly that.” He gestured to the zipper on the back of his dress, and Jean closed it. He failed to keep the knuckles of his hands brushing against the freckled back. A small shiver ran down Marco’s spine as a result. “She can be a very understanding woman.”

“I don’t doubt that. I just assumed that the monarchy was a bit more…”

“Stuck up? You said that when my grandmother tried to get me to court Historia.”

“Well. Yeah.” Jean frowned at Marco’s laughter, but it only seemed to make him giggle even more. “It’s true! All the monarchies want is a way to continue the heritage down the line. Nothing else matters for them.”

“Oh, that’s not true.” Marco’s hand swayed forward, but he brought it back to his dress, as if adjusting the silky material. “You know better than that, Jean.”

“It’s true and you know it.”

“I’m one of those monarchies too, you know. Am I also stuck-up and only focused on holding up the genetic line?”

“Of course not, Marco, you’re different! You…” Jean stopped himself before he could utter the words. The kiss on the cheek from before told him of how things could turn out, but the uncertainty and lack of confirmation on what his feeling were did not help him make a decision.

Marco decided to help out instead. “I’m…? Yes?”

Fuck it. The worst that could go wrong was he get removed from his post and be relocated somewhere else. Or Marco could kick him out. Or a list of things would happen, and it would do him no good to continue putting it off. “You wear dresses when you want, and you aren’t afraid to be who you are. And you smile because you’re actually happy about something, and it makes others smile too, and it only makes you happier. You’re different, but you don’t let it define you. Those things that people may see as different are normal for you, and whoever your suitor is going to be should see that before you two commit.”

It was out there. Jean had never thought that he would end up in such a place. Being by Marco’s side at every hour of the day was something he had come to expect, but to fall in love with him was another story. He was enamored with the prince, and he adored every part of him that shone with light and crinkled in laughter and spread life with every glance. It was an accident, because falling in love with the person he protected was a dangerous game, but it felt so right to be around Marco that he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Wow,” Marco breathed out. His voice was soft and tender, and his hands had crossed in front of him. It must have been a trick of the light, but the guard thought he looked like he had been waiting for something to be said. Jean blinked and waited for him to respond, but he never got one. Instead, he got a teasing smile and a poke. “Well, aren’t you going to seal the deal?”

“Uhm.” Jean looked anywhere but at Marco as the space between them was shortened. This was getting rapidly close to becoming more than a stray kiss on the cheek. “What do you mean?”

The prince scoffed and grabbed onto the lapels of Jean’s uniform. “Seriously, am I the one who has to do this?” And they were kissing, lips connecting this time, and Jean melted. Marco was warm and slow, a hidden fear to cherish the moment. It was real, or at least it felt real enough, and Jean wanted to take shelter in the kiss, hide from the rest of the world and stay safe.

Holding Marco with tender intentions was much better than forcing it due to his job. His waist was firm, and his belly had a faint softness to it that he had witness the prince fret over many times before. He loved it, because it was part of Marco, and as human as they could be, there was nothing wrong with him.

“I had a crush on you for a long time,” Marco whispered when they broke apart, flushing in embarrassment. “But I thought it was just a temporary thing.”

“And here I was, completely oblivious,” Jean mumbled. Marco chased his worry away with another kiss, this one shorter but just as sweet. “I should have known, though. Guards are hardly allowed inside private quarters without invitation.”

“Well, not all of them are my age, but not all of them tried to bail me out of boring things. Even though you tried so hard not to get close to me.”

“Yeah, I really failed that last one.” Once again, his words were choked down by a pair of lips and an eyeroll. “Mm. If you’re going to silence me when I say things like that, I’ll never stop talking.”

“Then I won’t stop. I’ll just kiss you for eternity.”

“I don’t have a problem with that.” He ran a hand up Marco’s side, and the prince sighed, slumping against him with eyes closed. He was the picture of contentment. “Do you want me to stay the night?”

“If you would like. I know you want to get out of that uniform.”

“I can wear nothing.” Marco’s face lit up, and the inexperience was revealed on both ends. “I-I mean, if you want that, I could, um, wear nothing.”

The prince chuckled quietly, one hand gently tracing patterns on Jean’s chest. “You can borrow some of my clothes.” As if he could read his mind, Marco took his hand and squeezed it. “I’m just as scared as you are. You know I’ve never had anyone up here, and I can only assume you’re in the same boat. We can take this slow.”

“Slow is nice.” Jean smiled, and he swayed their hands back and forth gently. “I like kissing you.”

“Kissing isn’t bad. I like that too.”

“Good. That, uh, works out great for both of us.”

“Just a little.”

Jean couldn’t help it: as they made their way to the bed, just wanting to lay down together and talk, he spun Marco around and grasped his waist. He couldn’t tell where the laughter came from, but the fact that it could be from both of them was satisfying enough.

 

* * *

“I don’t think this is going to work.”

Marco groaned and pulled on Jean’s arm for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Come on, you’ll do just fine.”

“I think she’s going to kill me.”

“My mother will not kill you!”

“Fine, then she’ll kill  _ you _ for falling for your guard, and I’ll be demoted and then killed by an assassin.”

Marco sighed, stopping in front of the doors to his mother’s office to adjust Jean’s clothes. They were dressed as they usually were in the castle—one in his guard uniform, the other in a floor-length dress. The one difference was that their proposal to allow the prince’s personal guard to court said prince had never been done before, and the outcome was unknown. “My mother already loves you, you know. You basically grew up with me.”

“Yeah, a prickly guard for your son is always a great addition to the royal family.”

“Jean.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we agreed that you were gonna be the optimistic one.” Marco’s hesitation to answer was enough to shut up Jean’s negative train of thoughts. This was supposed to be a good moment, and they were both equally scared. Just like their relationship, they had to take it slow and careful if they were going to go anywhere. “I think it’ll be okay. But no one has made this happen, if it ever occurred at all, and it’s…”

“Scary.”

“Yeah.” Jean smiled lightly and bopped Marco’s nose goodnaturedly. “Stop finishing my sentences, though. Or else I’ll steal the words from you.”

Marco seemed to like that idea, to which he grinned and wrapped his arms around Jean’s waist. His height gave him a slight advantage and feeling of safety that Jean had never believed was possible to find, even if the prince was technically the one who had to feel that way. “I’m not going to stop, then.”

“Fine. You leave me with no choice but t—”

“Marco? Is that you?”

Queen Maria called from within, and the two men jumped, remembering where they were. Marco laughed in disbelief, but Jean only held the prince closer. They had to do it now. Without tiny steps and inches towards what they wanted, what could make them happy, they would be lost.

“Hey.” Marco tilted his chin so they could kiss, meeting each other halfway, as if they had sensed the need for it. Jean liked that feeling, of knowing something as well as he knew himself, and he reveled in it. “We’ll do great in there. She won’t kill you, or me, and we’ll get permission.”

“Yeah.” Jean added one more kiss between them for good luck, and then they moved apart, hands staying entwined together before they walked in. “We’ll do it.”

Being with Marco was his life, past and future. He was not going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> The yellow dress Marco wore on his birthday is the dress Belle wears in "Beauty and the Beast" let's discuss


End file.
